The story of Gilderoy (Toby Jones), a repressed sound engineer who travels to Italy in the 1970s to create the soundtrack for a violent Giallo horror movie, Berberian Sound Studio is the second film of writer/director Peter Strickland. A horror film without the horror, the film creates unease largely through its sound design, a few claustrophobic sets and Jones’ gripping performance. Ahead of its release this weekend, we spoke to Peter about the film.

Berberian Sound Studio is in large part about the feeling of being a foreigner. You’ve lived out of the country for much of the past ten years – did that experience influence the film at all?

When you’re writing something you have your main focal point but other parts of your life just creep in somehow. I have been away a lot. Also I’m half Greek and half English, so there’s always been that clash between two cultures which are worlds apart even though they’re on the same continent. But first of all it came from sound, that was the starting point, these Giallo soundtracks. A lot of their composers were highly regarded avant-garde composers who did exploitation soundtracks on the side, and I find that compelling.

I was also interested in extreme violence: this ridiculous pantomime element of smashing vegetables to make foley sound. Is it disturbing or funny? It’s fascinating to tread that line. I thought what if you saw that horror every day of your life, where would you be ten years down the line?

Did you make a deliberate choice not to show any of the violence that the sound engineers were viewing every day?

I was interested in how filmmakers represent violence, and the question of responsibility. How can you manage how an audience interprets an image? Once it’s out there the filmmaker has no control. I think if we’d shown the violence we would have failed—that satire would have fallen flat on its face. I didn’t want to be didactic, I wanted it to be entertainment so it doesn’t go further into moralising, but I think if we’d shown what actually happens we’d be as bad as the Giallo directors.

Also it’s an experience about how an audience responds to that, what goes on in your head. I hadn’t really seen it done in a film before, to completely strip away the visual side. It’s the inverse of a normal film. The film is hidden away: we only see the mechanical side of it. So it’s holding a mirror image to it.

Gilderoy is an amalgamation of actual English sound engineers. What fascinated you about their story?

Some of these people had devastating lives: some got into the occult, or they just became alcoholics. They were tragic characters. And Gilderoy comes from this whole tradition of the garden shed eccentric, which I guess is dying out now with digital technology. Sound engineering was an alchemical process. It was talismanic. You can understand how you could spend too many late nights working, after all that tape looping, everything’s like a spell.

You funded your first film, Katalin Varga. How did having investors change the filmmaking process?

It was very, very different. I don’t think I’ll ever have the freedom I had for my first film—I was on my own. But I didn’t like it. You need someone to bounce off of. Obviously if you’re being told what to do that’s a very different thing and I don’t like that. I think I was very lucky. I can’t imagine a film like this being made by the Establishment in 1998. It seems there’s a climate now where people are more receptive to personal filmmakers.

Do you think that freedom is related to the budget?

It’s all about working to scale. The lower the budget the more risks you can take. You need to be responsible. You can say you’re an artist, but it’s not your money. It’s about balancing that responsibility with doing something that will hopefully be exciting and original, and not second guessing what the audience wants, which I think is fatal.

You have to respect the fact that audiences don’t want to be respected. I love films where the director confounded me somehow. I don’t want to be pandered to. So much of a film is about what’s going on in the audience’s head, not what’s on the screen. I think if you allow the audience to open that side of themselves up it’s more enriching. If they give you a bit of space, there’s room for your imagination to run riot.

A couple of weekends back Wilderness festival happened. It's a gathering built on the idea that the outdoors—the wild wilderness—is as much a state of mind as a real place. And the weekend's activities reflected that with wild swimming, woods and banquets.

Creative duo Philippa Johnson and Miles Langley went along, and here's their photo diary of the event.

Photo: The festival takes place at Cornbury Park, a 17th Century estate, and the weekend's balmy weather was perfect for wild swimming in Lake Superior and a couple of punts, too. 

Photo: Indian headdresses were a popular costume choice from the festival goers, many of whom dressed up.

Photo: The festival had its own unique Royal Mail service and this postman was fuelled by a trusty can of larger. 

All images are by Philippa Johnson and Miles Langley. 

British autumn marks the beginning of famously coarse weather. It’s no wonder we struggle to remember that Cornwall can look like this:

Photo: Maenporth Beach, Cornwall, nearby to Newlyn Cottage.

But we’d like to remind you that it really does. We’d also like to take you there.

Oh comely is collaborating with Late Lettings to offer one lucky reader a Cornish cottage for 7 nights from 29th of September. Called Newlyn Cottage, it’s on the south coast near Falmouth and accommodates six people. It’s part of Late Letting’s Tresooth Cottages: a series of barn conversions arranged around a courtyard, with a shared heated swimming pool, jacuzzi and sauna.

If all that wasn’t enough, there’s the little known fact that September in Cornwall is said to be the best month for a getaway. The picturesque beaches are less crowded. Then there’s this year’s prophecy of a late Indian summer.

Photo: Newlyn Cottage. Children not included. 

Newlyn Cottage is the most magnificent prize we’ve given away to date. And we love the mission of Late Lettings too: they arrange getaways in beautiful places that needn’t be expensive.

To win a week at Newlyn Cottage, remind yourself of a fond holiday memory. Find an image—old or new, professional or just a holiday snap—that embodies your memory and tell us the story. Email both to [email protected].

If your entry makes us feel nostalgic about that perfect getaway, the cottage is yours. We’ll put the best ones in a follow up post. Closing date is 14th September and T&C’s listed below.

Photo: The outdoor pool, shared between the cottages.

Terms and conditions: 1. Only one entry per person. Entry via email only. 2. This competition will end at Tuesday 14th September 2012 at 6pm. 3. The prize is a weeks accommodation in Newlyn Cottage in Cornwall for 7 nights from 29th September. 4. This prize is not refundable or exchangeable. 5. The winner will be contacted via email by Late Lettings. 6. The winner will be chosen from all entries submitted via email and this decision is final. 7. Entries may be used to promote the competition. 

For once, we can’t wait for September to arrive. The first ever Oh Comely Film Club will be taking place next month and we’re really excited to announce the details. There’s little better than getting together with some lovely people and watching a good film—we hope that you agree and can join us for a terrific evening at the cinema.

For our first Film Club we’re going to be showing an old favourite: Almost Famous, a funny, wonderfully bittersweet film from writer-director Cameron Crowe. It's a semi-autobiographical story about Crowe’s days as a teenage music journalist in the 1970s.

In many ways Almost Famous could be a mission statement for oh comely: it’s about having a voracious passion for something, and about the life-changing experiences that can come from embracing that passion. At heart, it’s a film about keeping your curiosity sacred, which is why we think it’s the perfect choice to start our Film Club with.

What: Almost Famous + a special selection of shorts
When: Thursday 20th September at 6.30 pm.
Where: The Genesis, Mile End, London.
How much: £7 (£5 for oh comely subscribers)

Order your tickets here.

RSVP here.

On the night you'll also get a programme that we've created especially for the event. Still haunted by our collective experiences a year ago trying and failing to get Olympic tickets, we'd recommend booking soon to avoid disappointment.

The night will start at 6:30 pm with a programme of short films chosen by us, followed by the main feature. Afterwards, we hope you'll join us in the Genesis’ bar for drinks and general splendidness.

See below for ticket-buying FAQ.

Ticket-buying FAQ

How much are tickets?
£7 standard price, or £5 for subscribers.

How do I collect my tickets?
Pick them up at the Genesis box office on the night. You will need the name the tickets were ordered under and some ID for that name.

I am a subscriber, how do I get a discount?
Just order a subscriber ticket and fill in the name and postcode your subscription is sent to in the comments box. There is one discounted ticket per subscriber.

I am a subscriber, but I can't make it. Can I pass my discount on to a friend?
Yes! Your friend should order the tickets, and quote your name and postcode in the comments box when ordering.

Will you be doing this in places other than London?
We'll be holding an evening each issue in London, but we hope to take it to other cities around the UK soon. Watch this space for updates.

I have another question...
Email [email protected] or give us a ring on 020 7831 8645.

Order your tickets here.

RSVP here.

Teo Connor and Loren Platt started The W Project in 2011 with an exhibition rather wonderfully called 'Blessed Are The Art Makers'. It coincided with the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day and was a vocal, artistic landing for the duo's project which celebrates women in the creative industry.

You can see The W Project in action next week (27th August), when they take over Tate's Tanks, as part of Undercurrent, a festival for 15-25 year olds. At the golden age of 26 that counts me out, but I hope you can pop along since Teo and Loren's work is really worth supporting.

In the meantime, here's my wee conversation about their work at The W Project. It's accompanied by some examples of their Words of Wisdom project where, simply put, they ask creative women for an artwork featuring their words of wisdom.

What is the idea and purpose behind The W Project? 

Our motto is to celebrate women working in creative industries and promote positive female role models. There are many successful women—from graphic designers, to filmmakers and artists—but, at times, the creative industry can feel like a boy's club.

It originated from us wanting to use International Women's Day to showcase female talent and invite everyone to celebrate it with us. We also wanted to encourage dialogue about issues that concern women today.

Photo: Graphic designer Jo Glover's artwork for The W Project's 'Words of Wisdom'.

Tell me a little about the Words of Wisdom artwork series you have running.

It was first exhibited on our International Women’s Day exhibtion in March this year. But the show was only open for a week, so we're sharing the project with a wider audience online. 

We loved all the artworks, but the words of graphic designer Emmi Salonen resonated in particular: "Keep learning and share your knowledge. Let each project influence you and the way you work. Have an opinion, have courage and above all, have fun."

That pretty much sums up the things I try to do in my life. We can all become richer by sharing knowledge, being open to new things, and having a bit of fun while we're at it!

Photo: Designer Emmi Salonen's postcard with her words of wisdom.

What are you planning for your show at Tate Modern's Tanks? Have you seen any live art there?

The Tanks space is truly extraordinary. There’s something special about its rawness and size, all rough concrete and industrial lighting. It creates a powerful base for anything shown within it. We really enjoyed Suzanne Lacy’s The Crystal Quilt, and am looking forward to ISYS Archive’s A City Symphonic.

For our show on the 27th August, we've created a film and interactive piece that explores the positive female influences in people's lives. It features intimate portraits of a range of people, including men and women of all ages.

What makes you angry about the world? And happy?

There are loads of things in the world that make me feel sad and angry—way too many to list—but apathy and cruelty would probably be top. It sounds well cheesy but it's the simple things that make me happy: kindness, friendship, music, art and my cat.

Photo: Illustator and designer Suzi Kemp's poster for Words of Wisdom.

I first encountered HTML back when MySpace was still cool. Tweaking the code behind my profile felt powerful, back when powerful meant changing webpage colours from white to black and back again.

And today? Well, Facebook is stuck in its blue and white uniform, affording no opportunity for super-basic HTML tweaks by non-coders like me. There's an Internet full of other opportunities, sure. I could code my own game! Make a website! No. I can't. My lack of knowledge is such that I feel like a poodle trying to make sense of a game of Scrabble. It's difficult.

Or rather, it was difficult. All of the above applied until last week when I attended Code in a Day, a one day course run by Decoded, London's newest coding school. It was founded in late 2011 by four people—an ad legend, a web evangelist, a wonder woman and a champion decoder—passionate to teach about coding. 

Decoded's ideas on this subject are straight and simple. Their motto is 'digital enlightenment'. Here's what they say: Code powers the web. People need to code. Everyone can learn to code. 

Still, I was a little skeptical of the promise of a one day miracle. I knew that most coders were self-taught, putting in hard hours late into the night. But, on the course, I quickly discarded my prejudices (plus those half-remembered HTML colour tags from 2004) and enjoyed the fact I knew nothing of coding logistics. Decoded didn’t expect me to. Everyone on the course was equally uninformed. Horray.

We began with a potted history of computer programming. Who was the first computer programmer? Ada Lovelace, the poet Lord Byron's daughter. Why is Flash—one-time maker of kooky webscapes—dead? Read Steve Jobs' letter on the subject. What is the game Angry Birds coded in? What’s HTML5? And so on.

After the history lesson, we got up to speed with the present. John Ridpath, our course tutor, guided us through a simple assembly of HTML and CSS. We moved onto JavaScript after lunch. We followed clear principles about how to conceptualise these languages. HTML is web content. CSS is web design. JavaScript is web behavior. Put together you get the visible, front matter of a website. And you feel like a BAMF along the way.

Decoded don’t just talk about code, they do it. So without even being aware of it, we were working towards creating a functioning web-app: something halfway between a webpage and a useful tool. Sneaky.

My final app is online here. The concept is to list swimming pools in my local area. The only problem is that it's not quite working, that’s why “Swim in Bristol!” is flashing up. This means I need to tweak the JavaScript, alter the code, fix the problem.

And in their characteristically helpful way, the Decoded team encourage people to do just that. They give course alumni access to their server, and a wealth of online recourses to guide the process. Coding might just be possible after all. But poodles definitely can't play Scrabble.

Caitlin Storrie is a recent graduate of Kingston University where she studied illustration and animation. I like her work: it's thoughtful and unsettling. It captures people's murky passions and the forgotten potential of everyday things.

A series of night drawings, for instance, sees Caitlin draw the residents of an apartment block from the perspective of a watching outsider. She encourages the viewer to imagine the story of those we don't know in a way that is utterly uncomfortable but very usual: people often stare at the lives of others, but few of us want to be caught doing it.

I particularly enjoy Caitlin's series of drawings called 'Creative Cuts'. Here, she’s used discarded pens — think old highlighters from school and pencils that are biro stained — to draw tiny lines across huge pieces of paper. She's drawn these pens to death: scribbling and scribbling until there's no more ink left.

The resulting work is abstract but also utterly ordinary. They remind me, yes, that old pens have a lot more ink than we care to use. But they also reveal and mimic the modern interest in the revival of rubbish. There's potential in what we throw away, be that ink from old pens or stories about strangers.

Clare Napier sent in this photo of herself reading issue eleven. Of the picture, she says: "oh comely, my faun legs and a big blue sky. This issue arrived on a day when I felt ill, which was nice: even when the magazine is inspiring it remains calming."

What's your copy of oh comely up to? Send photos to [email protected]